Priceless
by Juneside
Summary: My preferred version of the original story. This will be somewhat long. Leroux's Erik with ALW's setting and Kay's amazing back story.


**This can be counted as my first fanfiction, so i'm sorry if it's not the best. This is the main story with some add in's, please enjoy and review!**

Faint noise tickled my ears as I slowly came back to the land of the living, but when my eyes focused upon soft pinks and oranges that decorated everything from the large canopy bed to the soft carpet below, I knew this was not life. No, this was hell. I was in Pandora's Box with the devil himself as my jailer possessing a disfigured face to prove himself a demon. My emotionally racked mind turned to the voices, as in more than one, but how could anyone find this place? I was in the center of the earth, tucked away like a pretty songbird in a cage.

Cautiously I arose from my silken sheets tentatively sneaking upon the locked wooden door. Moving my hazardous curls and pressing my ear to the dark wood, all I could faintly make out was a foreign tongue used in a very soft and delicate tone, unmistakably a woman. The shock of this discovery brought a worried gasp from my lips. Another _woman_? Had Erik stolen another supposed student? Perhaps it was even a ballerina, foolishly poking about the cellars in a naive attempt at my rescue. The image of Meg's soft blonde hair and sisterly smile nearly crushed my heart; I had hoped she of all people would be spared from any of the Opera Ghosts attacks. Perhaps I was wrong.

**Three days ago**-

"Ah, Mademoiselle Daaé, you were simply perfect. Every seat sold and not a single refund!" Monsieur Firmin boomed out. The stout, grizzled man smelled strongly of alcohol, and his eyes never met mine as they busied themselves undressing the female companion on his arm. "Quiet, I dare say you've shown yourself above a mere ballerina, Mademoiselle. The whole company thanks you and hopes that you will consider staying on the vocal side of the stage from now on." Andre seemed uncomfortable yet accustomed to the attention his partner was heaving upon the woman. He kept his attention on me almost too long, but I understood his message 'Carlotta is still the leading Prima Dona, mind your place.' The Italian soprano had already made that point abundantly clear with her shrieking orders to the crewmembers to move her personal winter gowns into her dressing room only moments after the final curtain had fallen. I gave a small nod, and he seemed to take it as my consent suddenly opening a large, if fake, smile. I gave my polite return after all; one successful Gala night does not make you a star for more than a moment.

Truthfully, I was irritated at having been pulled into this trivial meeting when I had prior arrangements. The only complements I wanted to hear were from him. My Erik had promised that if I pleased him tonight, he would give me a special gift. My curious heart said he would tell me more of his angelic self while my rational mind chastised that it would be a new technique relating to our music in some way. All I knew about my heavenly protector was his name… Erik. Just thinking the word brought a smile to my lips, causing my heart to flutter. I forced myself to contain my emotions. I loved my angel, that much was obvious. Even Meg had commented on my 'glow' that I stuttered to deny and insist it was a trick of the light that day.

"Ah, and here he is, our benefactor wished to congratulate you personally, Mademoiselle, this is-" "Christine! It is you!" I was shocked and gazed up from my curt bow only to have dull blue eyes, brimmed with excitement and boyish charm, to stare back. A hazy memory of my childhood filtered back of a boy with wavy blond hair and a crude wooden sword egging me on in some fairy tale game of youth. Recognition pulled the name from my lips. "Raoul?" The rather dashing man looked elated at my clumsy recognition but delighted nonetheless.

"I knew it was you, Little Lotte, why the last time I saw you we were digging up pirate treasure in my Mother's garden." The laugh I gave was genuine, the first that had not been from my angel since my father's passing. It felt nice, natural. "Raoul, why do I find it so easy to imagine you digging up her ladyship's prized roses for some sort of naive escapade?" A new voice stole my attention, it was softer and carried with it a heavy accent I recognized as English. The woman before me stood proud and regal, the managers bowed low at the waist, and I quickly followed suit with a deep curtsy. "The Duchess De Blanc, I was not under the impression you would be joining us" came Andre's frazzled welcome. "Please sirs, rise. I came to Paris on pleasure, not political means. See me, not as a Duchess but as one of you, a lover of the operatic arts." This caused Raoul's own gruff laugh and a slight shake of his head, but the tall Noblewoman's eyes never left my inclined form. "Miss... Daaé? Are you perhaps related to the violinist Gustave?"

"Yes, milady my father. I had hoped to bring his spirit peace by joining this opera house." I glanced up meaning for a quick assessment only to be drawn in by her vibrant blue eyes, unable to look away from the living ice. The longer I stood paralyzed, the more I came to see the blue contained steely flecks giving them their depth. In those oddly warm eyes, I truly felt safe as if her presence alone was enough to calm any storm. A disgruntled cough caused the both of us to blink, severing the connection. "Christine, would you perhaps be interested in joining the two of us for dinner this evening? It's a special occasion, only made more so by you're stunning performance." My managers had left the three of us though it had almost gone unnoticed, stricken with a fear as I was. How long had this 'meeting' gone on? What if my angel had taken it as blasphemy?

"I'm sorry, Raoul, I have a lesson tonight, and my teacher hold my punctuality in high regards. I think I'm already late, I must go." I moved to pass, but my childhood friend shifted to block my escape. "Please, Christine, I'm sure your master would understand especially if he heard your performance. It's also the Duchess's birthday, and I would like for you to join us. If need be, I shall personally inform your teacher of the date, invite him even." Oh silly Raoul, you cannot invite an Angel he is always there. I felt the proof; somehow, I could always feel his presence watching me, guarding me. However, before I could protest the duchess put her hand upon Raoul's shoulder. "Sir, if the lady does not wish to join us she need not feel obligated to cancel her prior engagements. I am honored that she even consider joining us, with talent as bountiful as hers she needs to stay in her regimen of practice. Hurry along now Miss Daaé, do not keep your teacher waiting any longer. Please, give him my sincerest apologies for taking up his time."

The pair stepped away, her with a warm smile and Raoul with a large pout. I wasted little time casting back a grateful smile, and ran towards my dressing room ignoring the numerous congratulations from the cast and crew. Only when I had shut the door and the lock clicked did I breathe. The room was silent, a bouquet of red roses resting upon my vanity caught my attention. I picked them up, examining the beautiful flowers, and I slowly inhaled their sweet scent. The small white card nestled inside bore Raoul's messy scrawl along with a more elegant script of someone named Emily.

"Christine." A shiver racked my spine. His voice, so golden and warm was truly a sign of Gods immortal powers, only an unearthly being could possess such a gift. "Ange." The word easily danced from my tongue and into the warm air, as my heart beat erratically in anticipation, but his reply was cold and curt. "Who was that boy? That miserable fool." He had never been angry before, and part of my insecurities wondered if he was going to disappear and leave me alone in this world. "He... He was a friend from my youth, he knew my father and I when we lived in the south." Worry painted my words while I searched for a way to soothe him. "My performance, I sang for you, was it satisfactory? Did I please you Ange?" The music worked; though he seemed hesitant, his voice became comforting and fell back into familiarity. "Yes, Christine, you sang like an angel tonight. I am proud of you."

Color danced across my cheeks, and I shyly ducked my eyes. His complements meant more to me than any applause or floral arrangement. "However, I want you to avoid that boy from now on. His presence distracted you and will continue to do so." I fervently nodded to his demands, eager to give him anything he asked. I placed the now bitter token of affection back upon my vanity, clasping my free hands together. Silence stretched for the longest breath, but it was comfortable just feeling his presence and I assumed mine for him. "Christine." My mind jumped at his summon and Erik continued. "We had a deal, I promised you a gift, come to your mirror my petite." I never doubted his voice, only unsure of the results of my reward. Looking over my image, I understood how I had pulled rumors into being. The girl before me was happy with a large grin upon her rosy lips and healthy blush coloring her cheeks, vastly different from the dark and solemn child who had gazed back at me with despair several years ago upon my first arrival to the opera house.

"Christine, do you trust me?" I found his question odd, but answered quickly nevertheless. "Of course, I have never doubted you Ange." He laughed, and the sound brought my own little chuckle to life. "Sweet child, trust me now, I wish for you to know me as more than a holy voice playing in your ear." A click penetrated the heavy fog in my mind, and suddenly my mirror was moving! I shuffled back, and the doorway opened to show thick shadow. Terror ran through my blood, I naively thought hell had opened to swallow me whole. It seemed my fear had been misplaced, however, as soon a warm light cut into the choking darkness in the form of a lantern in the hand of a tall figure. A gloved hand out-stretched to me in offering and my nagging intuition bid me to refuse until the solitary figure spoke out to me with familiar and loving tones. "Christine, my how I've longed for this moment. Do you not recognize me? It's your Erik, sweet child." While his hand was all I could clearly make out, I reached for it. My angel had become a man; if I could not feel the firmness of flesh and bone beneath the cold leather glove, I would have thought myself mad or dreaming.

No more words were needed as he took my hand firmly, and guided me along after him down into the darkness with nothing more than a solitary light to guide us. The orange light danced along stone walls and, I heard the squeak of rodents as they fled our intrusion of their homes. I feared nothing in his presence, too enraptured in the physical aspect of his being to worry of danger and the impossibility of him. He never looked back or seemed lost in the maze of turns. Nothing stood out to me in the deafening darkness until lights in the distance welcomed me to his home. He picked up our pace then, eager to bring me inside and out of the suffocating shadows.

Erik led me into his structure, placed the now unlit lantern aside, and closed the door with a loud clunk of a heavy lock sliding into place. Here in what I assumed to be his sitting room, by the light of the blazing hearth, was I able to take in his form even with his back to me. My first thought was of his clothing as his ensemble was obviously made of fine material, everything I expect a nobleman might wear. His height was imposing and I was sure if I stood next to him I would only meet his shoulders. He had a gangly physique, longs arms and legs that carried him with a noble grace one would not find in a common man. I stayed in my place as he hurried about the room, adjusting pillows on the long sofa, quickly pushing a throne like chair out of the fire's light, even toying with a silver box's location only to place it back above the hearth and next to another. This one simply wooden possessing what appeared to be a monkey with gold symbols in his hands. He seemed intent on continuing his nitpicking, but I needed to see him and could not be satisfied with partial glimpses as he went around. "Erik?" My soft voice seemed to freeze my angel, and slowly he straightened and turned about to face me. A gasp tore from my lips, and his expectant smile fell just as quickly at my discovery.

His face, something I had daydreamed of when in the dull routine of ballet, was concealed with a stark white mask. I could only make out his eyes and the very bottom of his lower lip and chin from the strange material. I gazed at him with a bluntly curious and slightly disturbed wonder. "Yes, yes, Christine finished your staring or would you prefer me to place myself directly in the light for a better examination?" Once again, that night his voice was stern and even as if speaking to an insolent child. Oh, how I hated it. To have him see me as nothing more than a student seemed to hide any bond of friendship I felt we shared. "I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting- I mean, your home is very lovely Erik." Flustered, my eyes danced around his furnishings but never observed them or ever fully glanced back to his form. He gave a small nod and his tone turned jovial as he carried on complements of my tastes and observations to my eager and naive heart.

The rest of the first night continued like that, him attempting to make me comfortable with small talk sand complements while I stumbled over my words in a lackluster attempt of ignoring the blaring mysteries surrounding my angelic company. I only found sleep when he sang a lullaby to me upon request while I slowly drifted off on the comfortable sofa. His golden voice took me to dreams of my angel and I dancing in the holy beams of heaven to our hearts song. However all dreams, no matter how sweet, must end with dawns first light and mine are no exception.


End file.
